A/N: Eurgh. I'm 14 words over drabble limit! Well, dammit all. I'm a newbie at this. Cheers, Adriana. We need some fluff.
Just a few yards more, round the next corner, and the pathway to uni from there on is all downhill. Toushiro knows that, having jogged down the same route hundreds of times now, for every single morning, somehow, mysteriously, he is always running late.
You'd think getting up 5 minutes earlier would help.
Or 10.
Or 15.
But no. Late he is. Invariably. Relentlessly.
Late.
He hears the sound of the old bike catching up with him just as he emerges on top of the hill.
"Hey, Toushiro!" Ichigo calls out from his stupid Gary Fisher. "Need a ride?"
Toushiro smiles to himself. He doesn't run late every single morning for nothing, after all.